Sunday, August 24

On N. 27th Street last night as Jon drives Seppo and I back from dinner at
Sinbad's (chicken kabob, rice, bean soup, hot tea), a rust-eaten pickup with
no muffler and a shattered windshield. Stickers in the left and right corners
of the back window: Calvin urinating on, respectively, the words FOREIGN SHIT,
and PETA. Driver laughing and grinning as he repeatedly guns the engine and
passes us in a cloud of exhaust smoke. Fat girl in passenger seat looking
happy.